


A Big Big Sky

by StardustAndAsh



Category: Starfighter (Comic), Starfighter Eclipse
Genre: Concentration Camps, Epistolary, Human Experimentation, M/M, Multi, POWs, Slow Build, WWII, World War 2, frame narratives abound, the product of a history buff and a feels demon, unhappy endings ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustAndAsh/pseuds/StardustAndAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does one do when the war is won but victory is out of reach? How do you put together the lives of friends you will never meet again?<br/>In the accounts of Helios, Selene, and Abel, Keeler tries to figure out what happened to the friends he lost in the War before he succumbs to his own illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fateful Meetings

Dear friend, if I may call you that, you may find it strange that the story I am putting together is not mine, but it is not my story that needs telling. I may have survived the war, but I will not survive the victory. There is no point telling you the story of my failing health, of those who forced me to retire my post, of these last few days in the stillness of an Earth that doesn’t know what happens next. This story is about the love and bravery I found written in these journals as I looked for lost friends.

Nurse Enke, a charming young man perhaps a few years older than myself, wishes I wouldn’t work as hard as I do to piece together this story.  However, I feel like it must be told. I owe it to my friends. Nurse Enke has begun braiding my hair so it won’t fall in the way as I pour over the journals, and I quite like the style. If only he could help me decipher the words beneath the bloodstains on the one.

You see friend, the story I am to tell you is one I am only figuring out myself, as I was not witness to any of the events, nor could I find anyone living to tell me about them. Instead I am left with three journals, two from men I have never known, and one in German that makes me glad I studied the language. They are the last wills of the poor souls, and I must tell you their story.

We should begin with the man that prompted me to search for this story. He was a young man, Abel, who came to the military bright-eyed and brilliant. I can remember his smile, his face full and lively. For someone so small and slight he could work magic with machinery. In the first week he was under my command he managed to not only fix a plane I had thought unsalvageable, he had added extra components to make flight quieter and smoother. I was taken with the capabilities he presented. I made him quite angry, I believe, when I told him he needed to replicate his wizardry on all the combat planes on our base.

_… And Commander Keeler, he said I had to fix all the damn planes on the base. Why can’t the rest of these goons do their own work. I’d be glad to teach them. What have they all been doing? I guess most of their work is in intercepting and translating. Which is what I should be doing, but I guess I’m stuck with these planes. The war will probably be over before I finish them all._

_At least fixing them gives me an excuse to be out of the barracks. The other engineers are all right, but the pilots put me on edge. There’s one duo here who’ve flown more than the rest, and they strut about like they own the place. Or at least Cain does. I’ve caught him staring from beneath his haphazard bangs a couple times, but I think that’s because I bunk below him and tossed all his junk back in his locker._

Ah yes, can’t ever have a story about Abel without Cain. The excerpt was from perhaps a week after Abel joined up, and within the next few days Abel was assigned to personally oversee Cain’s airplane. The two were unwilling partners at first. I admit Cain was not the gentlest of men. He was tall and proud from experience, even though he was one of the youngest on base.

Soon though, Cain was flying even better than ever. His airplane, christened the _Reliant_ by Abel, was the fastest in the fleet. With the improvements we saw the harshness in Cain disappear. Before, he had only ever been kind with his partner in the air, a quiet man named Deimos. But now Cain was kind to Abel too.

There is one particular incident drawn to the forefront of my memory, both by reading the words in Abel’s journal and in the recalling of how Cain learned to be kind to Abel. It is the daywhich everyone on base learned not to mess with Abel.

            _October 15_

_Today the strangest thing happened. I never knew he actually cared or anything, I mean, he never indicated that he thought of me as anything but a thing to dump all the efforts of his careless flying on. I have fixed the steering column five too many times! Still, I don’t know what he thinks of me._

_I guess I should start at the beginning. It was after lunch. I usually leave the mess fairly quickly, as it can get rowdy in there. And so many of the pilots keep asking me to fix their planes for them…. I guess those questions are what started the whole incident. I was sitting on the wing of the Reliant, as I like to do when I have time. I love to imagine what it must feel like to have all the world spread below, how freeing it must feel to fly any which way above the clouds. I have thought quite a bit on what I’d like to do after the war, if I survive it, and I think I would like to learn to fly._

_I lost myself there. I was sitting on the wing of the Reliant, when I was approached by two of the other engineers, Phobos and Porthos. The two of them have never been particularly friendly, and it’s probably because I took their starlight as best engineer._

_“Look at this asshole, thinks he’s too good to eat with us in the mess,” said Phobos. He leaned against the nose of the Reliant, pretending like he hadn’t just insulted me. His eyes glanced up, sharp and taunting._

_I remained silent. I wouldn’t stoop to their level._

_They didn’t like that._

_They said more words that I ignored, trying to go back to imagining the feel of a cloud. That’s why I didn’t see them get closer. I had assumed they would leave once they got bored of being passive-aggressive._

_I jumped when Phobos slammed a hand against the hull of the Reliant._

_“Hey!” he yelled. “Think you’re too good for the rest of us? We’ll teach you that you’re not as big as you think you are.”_

_It was Porthos who grabbed me. Pulled me right off the wing and slammed me into the cold concrete of the hangar._

_I tried calling for help, but Phobos clapped one hand around my mouth as he tilted my head back with a hand clamped painfully in my hair. I did what anyone would do, I bit the jerk. He released his grip on my mouth, but not my hair. Porthos gave me a punch to the face for my trouble. A ring on his finger caught my lip, splitting the skin and muscle beneath. Thick hot blood dribbled down my chin as my mouth felt like it had been set aflame. I think I cried.  He gave me another blow, this to my ribs, and another into my stomach._

_Then Cain arrived. I didn’t know it was him at first. I heard the boots against the concrete floor, as I had closed my eyes against the tears as I tried to claw Phobos’ hand away from my hair. I recognized his voice though, gravelly and low, having that husky quality one hears in smokers._

_“What the fuck do you think your doing to my engineer.”_

_I opened my eyes then, and Cain looked livid. His black eyes flashed as he looked from Phobos to Porthos, who had his arm cocked for another blow. Phobos’ grip on my hair weakened, and I scrambled away._

_“We were just talking,” said Phobos._

_“Just talking my ass. Just who the fuck do you think you are?” Cain advanced on them slowly. If he had walked towards me like that I think I would have run. “Do you know what I do to people who touch my stuff?”_

_Phobos and Porthos both shook their heads. I suppose it might have even been comical._

_Then Cain took ahold of Porthos’ head and smashed it into the side of the Reliant. Porthos dropped like a sack of bricks. Then Cain grabbed Phobos by his collar._

_“They regret ever being born.”_

_Cain broke Phobos’ nose._

_Blinking through my tears I saw Deimos standing a little ways off. Of course, he was never far from Cain._

_When Cain was done giving Phobos a new complexion in hues of purple he let him go. Phobos dragged off Porthos somewhere to lick their wounds._

_Then suddenly Cain was in front of me. He was crouching, his knees touching my arms, almost shielding me. One calloused hand came up to gently cup my cheek. It was the first time I’d felt his hands, and I was struck by how warm he was, how nice the feel of his rough skin against my own was. One thumb gently brushed against my poor torn lip._

_“I think a scar will suit your pretty face,” said Cain, face only inches from mine._

_“What?” I was confused. I had expected him to mock me, maybe some awkward sympathy, but what the hell was I to do with this?_

_“It’ll serve as a reminder. Nobody messes with what’s mine.”_

_“I don’t belong to you!” I was outraged._

_“Then who do you belong to? You’re here, you belong to the country, you belong to the army, and most of all you belong to me. Don’t forget it, Princess.”_

_And then he did something that left me unable to argue his point. He kissed me. I wish I could say I pushed him away. But there was something intoxicating about the taste of stale tobacco and blood and something untraceable that came with Cain. And then the kiss was over, and I am left with so many questions._

I had not known about the nature of the relationship between Cain and Abel until I began my quest to find out what happened to the two of them. They had kept it hidden from all their commanding officers. Perhaps the only person in our army who knew they were involved was Deimos, but I’ll never get to ask.

I should tell you friend, that the universe sometimes has a funny way with coincidence, for in one of the other journals I found (though I found both in the same residence in Germany) the date of October 15th was the day of another important meeting in our tale. Though not a true meeting perhaps, but the future significance of those the meeting to the story of Abel and Cain.

At the front of this battered journal is an inscription: To Helios, for all the songs you’ve yet to sing, with love, your sister, Valentina.

_October 15 (I think)_

_I say I think because I can’t know for sure without seeing a calendar. There’s a couple in the camp, but I don’t want to go any closer to the officers than I have to. I don’t want to get near them again. I don’t understand what’s happening here. All of my family was sent different places, at least I think. It was all so confusing and then there was a train and I was alone. I’ll find them though. They can’t keep us here forever, and one day I’ll break free and find them. I miss Valentina’s stories. She used to tell me about the people who lived among the stars. Today was weird, one of them German officers, one of the important ones, was parading around his kid. Most of the Germans who visit here look proud of what they see, they look down their noses at us all. Patriotic bullshit propaganda does its job I guess. I watched the kid get the full censored tour, seeing just as much of the camp as any of those kept in it. He was different though, nervous. His eyes kept seeing the people instead of the structure. He’s kind of cute. His hair has been sun bleached where not kept under a cap, and those eyes, even nervous, were a startling blue I could see even from my workstation. Today he just got a tour of the camp, but I expect he’ll be back. They always come back._

And there we have the foundations of the story I want to tell you. Enke is threatening to take away my papers if I don’t go to bed this instant. He’d never do it, but I must put my pen down for now. Tomorrow dear friend, I shall tell you more tomorrow.


	2. Down They Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter!! Also, it was my smol son's birthday yesterday, and since he is the best Deimos cosplayer ever (LIKE EVER EVER WHOA MAN), you should check out his instagram (https://instagram.com/malshapen/).

Friend, I see we have both made it to tomorrow. In the war it was always debatable if we would wake up in the morning at all, and each day we fight for is a day worth being alive. I want to tell you more. More of their story. And for that we need to start at the beginning of their end.

It was a cold, frostbitten day in November. I had been watching the team of Abel and Cain closely. I had seen the deep bond beginning to form there. I had no idea of the nature of their intimacy, but it was plain the two were beginning to care about each other. There was the gentle chastising if Cain did anything particularly reckless in his flying, the extra servings of bread or fruit making it onto Abel’s tray. The two of them were never far apart, aside from those anxious hours when the boys would fly out to fight the Germans off.

The strangest part of their relationship on the base was Deimos, Cain’s partner. The young man shadowed Abel whenever he and Cain were apart. For weeks he simply followed him. I did notice, but I did not know what to make of it, and decided to leave it be until it ever became a problem.

It never did become a problem. I believe Deimos and Abel managed to sort themselves out without too much trouble in the end. By the time Deimos died the three of them had become close.

_…I asked Deimos again today what exactly the relationship between Cain and himself was. I know there was something. The two of them are too close for there not to have been something before. Before when I do not know. My assignment to Cain? Being transferred here from Russia? The whole goddamn war?_

_AlI I know is that there was a before, and Deimos wishes it would continue. I’ve seen the looks he gives Cain, the looks he gives me. I hear the conversations in whispered Russian and I wonder what they are about._

_Deimos never answered the question._

_…I think that it’s getting better between Deimos and I. Today’s dinner it was just the two of us at the usual table in the mess. Cain got another lecture on insubordination. I wish he could calm his temper! And his raging hormones. Not that its not nice, but I would like a break once in a while. It’s like all Cain knows is how to fight, how to fuck, and how to be an asshole._

_Anyways, Deimos and I ate together, and though he didn’t contribute much to the conversation, he might have given me that smile, the one he only ever gives Cain. I asked him about his homeland, and he told me of his mother, of the soup she used to make on cold nights when he was young. His voice is soft, like snow. I often find myself wishing he would speak more, I like that voice. It sharpened to ice though, when Phobos showed up to demand something of him. Maybe one day he’ll tell me more about his family._

Abel never did get to hear more about Deimos’ family. And in part I am glad, for I researched that as well, and the end they met was not a happy one, and Deimos spent many years as a ward of the state before enlisting and ending up here with us.

It that cold day in November where it was all ripped away. The call was made, and the boys went up in their planes, becoming nothing more than specks of darkness in the twilight sky before vanishing into the night. I watched them go that night, as I always did, praying for their return.

I am glad Enke has left me alone to write this. It is still hard to think of the nights where we lost good men to the enemy. It is even harder still to think of all those bodies we never recovered. 

That night Abel stayed in the hangar with me, watching long after the planes had all vanished. He claimed he had work to do, and I let him. There was something uneasy in the way he looked that night, dark eyes troubled, his soft mouth twisted in a frown. I wondered then if he was avoiding going back to the barracks, if the other engineers were bullying him.

The fleet was one plane short when they returned.

It wasn’t immediately noticeable, as another plane limped into the airspace above the base. The damaged plane, noticeably the _Reliant_ by its paint, was smoking. Cain landed hard, bouncing and skittering over the runway. I then counted the planes as they landed, and noticed that another was missing.

_I had the awful feeling something bad was going to happen. All night I watched the skies, waiting. The anxiety of waiting is a terrible thing. All it does is eat your insides because you can’t do anything._

_When they came back it was awful. The Reliant, my baby, was on fire. I wasn’t sure if I was angry with Cain for getting her shot, or frightened for the safety of her pilot. I was sprinting across the tarmac before the Reliant came to its stuttering halt. The smell was something awful, melting rubber and the acrid smell of singed metal._

_I didn’t even wait for proper help, I just climbed up the side of the Reliant and began fumbling for the outside release of the cockpit. Inside I could see Cain. There was blood on his forehead and he looked dazed. I shouted at him, but there was no answer, no movement from within, and the wing fire was spreading._

_The flames were creeping towards us, and help was still waiting for the rest of the planes to land. My fingers finally found the release and the glass came away with a hiss. Again, I fumbled with the harness until the catch undid, and then I somehow found the strength to haul my idiot pilot out of that wreckage._

_Cain was limp in my arms, even as I dragged him out and then away from the ship to the grass nearby. I never truly realized how heavy he was. It was terrifying. There I was, an engineer, dragging a conscious but limp pilot away from a burning airplane, in the middle of an RAF base, in the middle of a war. The way Cain was just passively letting me drag him away was concerning, the empty look in his eyes I swear will haunt me for months._

_I got us over to the grass and set him down. There was blood on his forehead and on his flight suit. I began to panic before I realized that the blood on his suit was from my hands. I must have cut them on something as I wrestled Cain out of the cockpit. The bandages are itchy, and I can’t start any repairs on the Reliant until they begin to heal._

_“I need a plane,” was the first thing he said to me._

_He had shrugged off whatever daze he was in and had replaced the blank look with a mask of fury._

_I told him no, he couldn’t have another plane, especially since the one he did have was currently being extinguished by the brigade on base.  He tried to stand, but I forced him back down with all my weight on his shoulders._

_“Let go of me! Let me get back up there!”_

_“It’s over Cain, you won the day, please, just calm down.”_

_I hoped then Deimos would come, he always knew how to calm down Cain when I failed. I turned to face the growing crowd around us. The pilots were there, looking wary and scared. Some of them were torn between staring at us or the wreckage of the Reliant._

_It took longer than it should have for me to realize that Deimos wasn’t there. The other planes were still on the runways. I counted them and came up short. I counted again, certain I must have miscounted._

_I hadn’t._

_“Cain, where’s Deimos?” my voice shook as I spoke._

_“Get the fuck off me,” he said, and pushed me aside._

_With that he pushed me aside and stalked off. I heard from one of the other engineers that he picked a fight with Praxis that ended up with the both of them suspended from flying for weeks. Not like the Reliant is going to be airworthy for a while._

_None of the pilots will tell me what happened. I keep picturing the worst things. His plane crashing into the darkness of the cold ocean, a bullet hitting the artillery on board, an anti-aircraft gun ripping through the hull to the cockpit. The images have kept me up tonight. I wish I had the foresight to ask Deimos more about his family. Maybe then I could send them a letter. It only strikes me now that I’ll never again hear that soft snow voice, and it occurs to me that I can count the amount of conversations we’ve had just the two of us on one hand. I can mourn now, while Cain is out doing whatever (probably smashing things). When he comes back though I’ll need to be strong, Cain will probably need to escape today in the only way he knows how. Why I love the man I cannot say._

Deimos was shot down during a raid. The German pilot had been aiming for Cain’s plane, but somehow Deimos got in-between the two. The reports I read all said the same thing, that Deimos had purposefully maneuvered himself there, had willingly taken the hit. I mourned, but there was no family to send a letter of condolence to. Deimos went down with his dog tags, so there was nothing to give, no solid proof of his sacrifice.

What none of us knew was that Deimos survived the fall. The Germans captured him from the wreckage, or maybe found him dangling in his parachute. I’ll never know how he survived and his subsequent capture. All I know for sure is he ended up where they all did. It took me longer than it should to realize that Helios met Deimos. Deimos never told him his name, and he only appears briefly in Helios’ journal.

_Just one into the camp today. I don’t know where they got him from, but he looks rough. British military, from the remnants of his clothing. I watched them bring him in. He was already a bit cut up and bruised, but he glared at them with icy hatred. He had spirit. They only had him out in the yard for a few minutes, just enough to get a glimpse. Then they took him away, probably to force him into the “camp uniform”._

_He is in my bunk. I don’t know why, but the hot new prisoner, the one who was wearing Brit military uniform, he’s in my bunk. He’s staring at me, so intense. I think he knows exactly what happens here. Probably more than I do. I asked him a couple questions earlier, and he nodded and shook his head in response. I don’t know why a Brit would know Russian but then again I can’t complain about having someone to talk at. My German only goes so far._

_He gave me his dog tags earlier. I think he knows that they have something planned for him. I don’t know how exactly he got his dog tags through the camp welcoming ceremony, but I have them now. They’re stashed in the loose floorboard under my bunk. They’ll be safe. I told him so and he smiled. He looks good when he smiles. Like the sun coming out on a winter’s day, it practically sparkled._

_The officer’s son, the blue eyed, kind of cute one, he’s back. Back with a position. He was in charge of shoving the new guy in here with the rest of us, but instead of the rough treatment, or slurs, or any of that, this one was nice. He was gentle with him. Almost always they start out rough and mean. Most of the time they stay that way. But this guard, he’s kind. He’s probably too kind to be here._

We never actually found the wreck of Deimos’ plane. Although I pursued it, the search was never that intense. Why search for a plane that was most likely in pieces and in enemy territory? After the war I paid for another investigation, but it turned up nothing. I can only conclude then that Deimos did manage to use his parachute. I almost wish he had gone down with his plane; it would have been a far kinder end.  I must stop here for today though. I’m afraid I’ve not been feeling well enough to stay out of bed for long. I must call Enke back in to help me lie down. Until tomorrow dear friend, if it comes for the both of us.


	3. What's Left Unspoken

Today dawned cold and rainy, and I am afraid I’ve only been able to get out of bed for a few hours. Something has taken root in my lungs, taking up space that I need for air and with the damp air it feels as though every breath is fighting through a wet sponge. I rather scared poor Enke earlier with my coughing. He came rushing in as if expecting to see me dying, only to be met with me, red faced and wheezing. He helped me catch my breath and fixed my hair once again into a loose braid. Now he watches like a hawk in the corner, counting the minutes until he can once again shove me into the safety of the blankets.

I left off last time with Deimos’ last flight. The poor boy, it would have been better for him to have died in that plane. At least then he would have died in the sky, somewhere he loved.

_The man in the British uniform came back from wherever they took him today. It’s not a pretty sight. There’s ugly black stitches in his throat, making a line like barbed wire down his neck below his collar. He hasn’t said anything. And really I don’t think he can. It makes me scared. What the fuck did they do to him? I can’t even ask his name._

_…. It’s been a week since they threw him back with the rest of us. I’ve been calling him Mouse. I think he likes the name, as he smiles when I call him that. He looks really rather nice when he smiles. We’ve sort of worked out how to communicate. Its mostly me doing a lot of talking and him nodding yes or no, but it works. He’s still not on a work roster, and I think the guards take him away in the afternoons. I’m not sure what they’re doing but I don’t think its working. When it comes to the end of our lunch Mouse gets nervous. I saw him try to take a knife from the table a few days ago and he put up a terrific fight when the guards came to stop him. I don’t think that ugly one is going to ever move in the same way, I’m pretty sure Mouse hamstringed him. There was blood all over the floor and you bet I had to clean it up. Worth it though to see all the people here smiling again, plotting again. There’s life in their eyes once more. The cute new guard, who I now know is called Selene, broke up the fight. I can’t exactly recall the words he used, but he didn’t even have to throw a punch, he just stepped in, said his bit, and led Mouse by the shoulder away from the scene. Didn’t even hit him or anything. I think I like this one. Maybe not all of them are bad._

_....Mouse is looking worse. The barbed wire lines are angry and red, and there’s a clear ooze leaking out of it. His face is pale and sweaty too.  Selene offered to bring him some medicine from outside. Discreet like, under the noses of the other guards. He’s so nice. But Mouse only shook his head no. I wanted to scream at him. I still want to scream at him even as I write this. Mouse should accept the help and get better. He should or else they’re going to take him away for good, like they took away the girl who got the bad cough or the man who broke his leg fixing the roof. Nothing I say can change his mind though. He’s curled up beside me now, shivering in his sleep. He’s getting worse, he’s not going to be able to hide it. I run my fingers through his hair and whisper old nursery songs at him. Its all I can do._

_…Mouse didn’t come back today. It was all normal at lunch. The guards were watching us, terrifying living statues with eyes on our every move. Selene waved at us once. The other guards took offence to that and he told me he got a lecture about fraternizing with us unsavoury types. As if we could be any more unsavoury than those who literally took us off the streets like stray dogs and put us un this “camp”. Who are they trying to  kid, this is a prison through and through, and all I or anyone can do is wait. Wait for the war to end or for our inevitable death within the barbed wire fences. We’ve already experienced the death of freedoms. And Mouse hasn’t come back yet. Its almost nightfall, and we have a curfew even in this place. I hope Mouse comes back soon. I don’t like sleeping alone and Mouse has been so good to me these past few weeks. He’s really the only friend I have in this place. I would count Selene, but he is first and foremost a guard and I am a prisoner here. I hope Mouse comes back.  I still have his dog tags. He should have them back._

Helios was a friend to Deimos during his last weeks, and that is a comfort. But I found the records of what they were doing at the camp. Human experimentation. It makes me sick just to think about it. They tried to enhance Deimos’ voice box somehow, trying to get him to speak in a range not audible to normal human ears. They had other experiments with hearing and such as well. But they sliced Deimos’ neck open, nearly killing him in that surgery, and then stitched him back together without bothering to make sure the wound was thoroughly cleaned and properly looked after. Deimos was dying of infection when they killed him. I never found the grave. No doubt his bones lie indistinguishable in a mass unmarked grave somewhere near the camp, but we could never find it.

Helios held onto the dog tags after Deimos disappeared. From what I can tell he was a very loyal friend very quickly. I wonder what he looked like, but I have no photographs, or at least no photographs where I can tell which person in it he is. I like to picture a wide-eyed boy, eagerness written all over his face. I have some description from within Selene’s own journal.

_The problem with this plan is that I actually do see the people here as **people**. Unlike father. He’s so content to blame everyone else for all this mess but no amount of pointing fingers changes the fact that we are the ones who set up these camps and forced our neighbours into them. I let father convince me to take this job so that I could relay information back and let people know what was really happening. I didn’t expect it to be so hard. They’re so thin and weary. They look at me with hatred. Except for the one boy. He just looked curious. His hair is dark, like a moonless night. He watched me all day yesterday, but not with anger, but instead intrigued. I think I will try talking to him tomorrow._

_…. He can barely speak German. What he can speak is in broken fragments. Instead he speaks Russian, which I definitely cannot. He’s sweet though. After much attempted conversing I found out his name is Helios, and that he is not a Jew like most of those in there. He’s a gypsy, or as he calls his people, Romani. He was born in Russia and his family had been there some time, but they were travelling, trying to get through to France and then to America when this whole mess started. He doesn’t know where his family is. I fear they might have been killed like so many others. He speaks of his sister with such fondness I hope that one day I can reunite them. As it is my project is now going to be trying to see if I can find this Valentina in one of the other camps._

_When I told Helios I could see his eyes light up. He looked so very happy. It set off a strange feeling in my gut that I’ve not felt before. All fluttery and warm. I hope I can follow through and find news of his sister. He leaned in quite close when he thanked me, all grabbing hands and flustered excitement, but I finally saw his eyes for the first time. They are grey, like pale dawn before the sun has risen or the clouds on a winter’s day. They are beautiful. The fluttery feeling is back once again, and I must hide this journal somewhere father cannot find it._

_….I helped them take away Helios’ friend today. My superiors are angry. The British pilot never said a word to them, he never cracked, and then their experiment failed. I had offered to bring Helios’ Mouse medicine before he fell too ill to be of use but he refused. I think he wanted to die. It was horrible, and I don’t want to remember it, but I think it will stay with me for a long time. When Helios asks where his friend went I don’t think I will answer truthfully. I don’t want to tell him. I want to protect him. I want to make sure nothing like that ever happens to Helios. For now I must settle for telling my friends what I have witnessed in full detail, so they can start spreading it to other ears that might listen._

_….Helios cried anyway. He doesn’t cry beautifully, like in the stories. He cries big fat tears and loud shuddering sobs and snot and spit and muffled screams. No other guards walked by while I held him, for which I am grateful. I don’t need word to get back to father that I am getting cozy with someone in the camp. I used my kerchief to dab away his tears and told him I was sorry. He kissed my cheek and told me thank you._

I am afraid I must stop here for the day. My cough has gotten worse, despite this horrible tea Enke told me would help. Its not, and I had another episode where I could not breathe for what felt like several minutes. Now I must get Enke to help me back to the bed that is my prison. I hope I can write more soon, there is still so much left of their story to tell.  


End file.
